Magic Carpet Ride
by Rusco
Summary: Spike and Xander run into trouble with a magical artifact. Again. ((short story, slash))


((Hmmm. With eight or more half-finished stories sitting around on my computer, I probably shouldn't be writing weird ficlets, especially considering my status as world's slowest writer. But I am. Originally written for Slashthedrabble. It was exactly 500 words there, but this is the un-pruned version, so- not exactly a ficlet. Possibly part of a verse that lurks on my hard-drive, seen before only in that odd lust-demon thing I showed people a while back.

Sillyness, lack of plot, S/X slash.))

Xander and Spike lay side by side on the rug, sharing a moment of contemplative horror as they watched the world continue to drop away beneath them. Spike was the first to break the silence, glancing cautiously over at Xander.

"So… Alright, maybe we should have asked the watcher first." Xander managed to tear his eyes away from their impending doom to stare incredulously at Spike, who missed the look entirely as he continued, "But really, it was an easy mistake to make. I mean, how often do you see an _actual_ magic carpet jus' lying in the alley? And with a sign on it, saying 'Magick Carpet'. Like anyone'd be stupid enough to believe it." He snorted indignantly, still squinting at the ground below. Far, far below.

"Gckss," croaked Xander, whose vocal chords had worn out after the first ten minutes of uninterrupted screaming. He wondered dizzily if he could push Spike off of the carpet without being pulled over after him.

Maybe if he grabbed a different part of the fringe, and wiggled down to… there…

"I wonder how high we are now," Spike mused, oblivious to Xander's grimly determined struggles on the other side of the carpet. "Think we're a mile up yet? 'Ve never been on an airplane, you know. No way to stay outta the sun." He pulled himself up into a sitting position, fighting against the slipstream pushing him downward, and fumbled momentarily for a cigarette. Clicking the lighter was an exercise in futility, however- the flame was blown out by the high winds before he could bring it up to his mouth. He scowled. "Bugger. Not much to do up here, though." Giving up on the fifth try he turned again to look at Xander, who had ceased all movement and was staring at Spike with a familiar mix of astonishment and disgust. He leered automatically, trying to think of something else to occupy himself with until the carpet wore out and either landed, or dropped like a rock. These old models never had more than a few hours' juice when they flew autopilot, he recalled, and for a moment he contemplated sharing this with Harris.

He snickered at the thought. Nah. He was still evil, after all.

Xander was soldier-crawling down the rug now, trying to squinch as far from Spike as was possible without actually rolling off of the carpet. Naturally, Spike took this as an invitation to invade Xander's personal space, and scooted after him to lean casually against his shoulder. Xander tensed under the touch, and appeared to be considering whether to submit to use as Spike's elbow-rest or throw himself into space.

Spike was unsure whether he felt insulted or pleased when this decision seemed to take several minutes to make.

Humans were so bloody fickle. It wasn't if the boy hadn't been willing enough to touch him that last time, when they'd…

An idea came to him. He looked down at Xander with renewed interest, and then commenced poking him in the side until he turned on Spike with obviously murderous intent. Dodging the shove easily, he grinned salaciously down at the boy and raised an eyebrow. "So, ever wanted to join the mile high club?"

Xander just… stared.

When he was at last able to speak without either babbling incoherently or gibbering with rage, he rasped, "Okay, even completely disregarding the fact that I swore in your presence, several times, that I'd never, ever have sex with you again- no, wait. That's really a good enough-" He stopped.

Spike was doing that… _thing_ with his tongue.

Xander licked his lips unconsciously, trying not to remember the one time they had… in the basement… with the-

_No, no, no!_ He clamped down desperately on his libido, but it was too late. Because Spike was _looking_ at him now, with _the_ _look, _and…

God, he was easy.

"We're going to fall to our deaths, you realize," said his mouth while his mind was otherwise occupied. Spike smirked triumphantly, recognizing the surrender for what it was.

"Not if you hold on tight, we won't. Lift up..."


End file.
